


The Lamp Chronicle

by Sad_Pandabear



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I'm Sorry, Infrequent Updates, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sad_Pandabear/pseuds/Sad_Pandabear
Summary: Finding out you're a genie due to an old family curse is more than enough to put a damper on turning sixteen. Good thing Harry Potter is not in the practice of having good birthdays.(Or)Follow Draco as he tries very hard to pretend he doesn't have an ancient, banned, Gryffindor magical creature in his possession as he goes through Hogwarts.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

_Yes_ , Harry had been going to Hogwarts for nearly five years now. No, his story did not begin there. Harry’s story started long ago, about 600 years. Harry’s story started - for real - on his sixteenth birthday, with the painful, terrifying ordeal that would eventually lead him to Hogwarts, and discovering a family curse older even than his story.

At first, he hadn’t believed it. Three days before Harry was to hit his sixteenth summer, his mother pulled him into their home and informed him that he would not be working the fields with the slaves the next day, as he had been told would be his punishment. 

However, that night, he woke in a blistering pain, feeling as though he were being set on fire from the inside out, and yet colder than he had ever been. Harry thought he must have gone mad with the pain, because when he came out of it a week later, his mother told him he had climbed  _ into _ the biggest hearth in the House,  _ while a fire raged _ , yet he had no burns, and still felt so  _ cold _ , like he would never be warm again. When he was truly able again, he learned of a truth he was not prepared for - in the form of disappearing from his home and reappearing somewhere unknown… in a large, completely bare, opaque glass structure.

It shook - once, twice, and then reverberated with a sound like no other. Deep and loud, it confused him, until - suddenly - he was mist - forming - now he was standing on solid ground again, confusedly watching a man laugh as he held a decanter, top out, that something in him screamed to claim.

Before he realised what he was saying, before he processed the manacles and chains around his wrists and ankles, before he had even the slightest chance to understand, Harry’s mouth moved.

“ **Master mine, my will is thine. Wishes three, you may ask of me, but bear in hand the law of the land**.”

A thin scroll appeared in the man's hand as he stopped laughing, instead looking about in shock. “Are you real, boy, or some fool hired to trick me?”

Harry looked hard at the man, not particularly liking the shivers that ran down his spine at the man's presence, and sighed. “I have not been hired, master mine. My will may not go against thine.”

Harry had tried to shake his head, but the words had come out instead.

The man he could not stop calling master had looked amazed, and then began speaking rapidly. “I wish I wish I wish! Ah, I wish I were a prince married to the prettiest princess in all the land!”

Harry found himself nodding. “Master mine, my will be thine. A prince you shall be, as that you’ve asked of me.” Feeling compelled, almost, he threw out his arms and with it went a cloud of mist and smoke as a princedom was built - somewhere - and this man he could not stop calling master became a prince of that princedom, and a marriage contract appeared in the air next to Harry.

“It is done, this wish one. Two remain, to be granted anywhere within my domain.” Harry didn’t much enjoy the rhyming he seemed to be doing, as though he were a common street performer, but he  _ did _ enjoy the warmth that came from expelling that cloud of smoke to do his bidding. It was the warmest he had been since the fever - for that is what it must have been - had set in, and he felt saddened that it was gone already, leaving him even colder than he was before.

Two wishes later, Harry disappeared once more, into the decanter that would become his home. This time, it had a rich cushion big enough to sit on in it, resting on the floor. This cycle - disappear to new location, serve three wishes, disappear - would become routine over the next five and a half centuries, during which time Harry found out that he was one of those Wish-Granters who thrived on heat - of the curse-created kind known as genies.

It was the last half-century, however, that determined Harry’s stay at Hogwarts, and that gave him the name ‘Harry’. Over a half-century spent in the ‘service’ of one family. A family who, upon finding that he craved heat, moved to the country that had once been his home in order to keep him miserable enough to serve their three wishes gladly. 

That family caused him much pain, as no matter their first two wishes, the third had always been “serve the next-born heir of this house”. In a great war, those members of the house died, despite the heir having already made his now-traditional third wish. So, he sat. He sat in his decanter, paced, thought he was going insane. Harry was bound to the wish, but there were no more heirs - none for him to complete the wish. Having no concept of time inside the decanter certainly didn’t help.

What he would later estimate to be around 20 years passed this way before his decanter opened once more.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he explored the old, unused rooms in the back half of Malfoy Manor in his first year at Hogwarts, but he was fairly sure it wasn’t a dust-covered decanter in Gryffindor red. If only to spite his father - controlling man that he was - Draco took the decanter, had it wiped off (“Don’t open it!” had been in the instructions), and set it on a shelf where it caught the light _just so_.

Looking back now, as he stood in front of the decanter once again, Draco reflected that perhaps he should not have seen fit to spite his father in such a way, or to anger him enough that Lucius Malfoy stormed into his room.

Well, he supposed now was as good a time as any to find out what was _in_ the decanter, since he had to get rid of it.

Draco reached forward, pulled the bottle closer, and gently drew the stopper - gold filigreed red glass like the rest of it - out of the top. Unprepared as he was, Draco couldn’t help but drop the decanter as burgundy smoke poured from it, coalescing into a young man who could not have been more than a few years older than Draco himself.

“Master mine, my will is thine. Wishes three, you may ask of me.”

“What?!” Draco couldn't believe it. It sounded like he had found the one creature that had supposedly been truly killed off in the Wizarding World.

The boy sighed. “Was I not clear?”

“Uh,” Draco stuttered - he never stuttered! “No, you were clear. It's just -” he hesitated “- your kind aren't supposed to exist. Creating genies was banned some time ago.”

“Well,” the boy's eye twitched. “I am from a time before that.”

“...so. I have three wishes then?”

Another sigh. “Yes.”

“Ah. Good, then.”

There was quiet for a while, with the boy - genie - still and nearly silent as he looked at everything except Draco. Draco was preoccupied with how, exactly, the _one_ thing he picked out for himself happened to have a _banned_ creature in it. It was… disgustingly Gryffindor-like, something that bumbling _idiot_ Longbottom would do. And, as if it were mocking him, the vessel just _had_ to be in Gryffindor’s colours. He supposed that should have told him, should have screamed “Don’t pick it up!”

But he had, had taken it and set it in his room so it caught the light _just so_ , and had let the thing sit for a year - a _year!_ \- without touching it. A testament to the patience that helped put him in Slytherin, for sure. Lost in his thoughts, Draco didn’t realise that the boy - genie - had been clearing his throat until he was touched on the arm. 

“Huh?” Draco asked, startled. “Don’t touch me.”

“I am sorry, master mine, if I have wronged thee.”

Draco berated himself internally. This creature may have crossed a line, but it was one he didn’t know existed, and certainly would not have had to had Draco been paying attention.

“No, it’s fine. Don’t do it again.”

The boy gave an approximation of a short bow. “Have you need of me, master mine?”

Draco waved an idle hand. “No, no, you may go back.”

He watched as the boy seemed to - burst - into smoke, quite unlike the stories Muggles told, and the smoke was vacuumed into the bottle, stopper flying out of his hand and into the decanter.

Draco sighed. Well, time to find out how to _hide_ the decanter from his father and the house elves. Only a few days until start of term, at least, and then it could go under his bunk to collect dust while he tried to find something to do with it - and what three wishes to use to get rid of the genie.

\-------

A week later, Draco boarded the Hogwarts Express and did the one thing he thought he’d never do - he swallowed his pride and asked Longbottom to share a compartment. Of course, Draco was careful to make it appear that he simply had no other choice. Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea, least of all that Longbottom.

“Oh, Draco.” Longbottom seemed … less than happy to see him, but the Gryffindor was  _ far _ too polite to show how unhappy he was. Or to refuse him.

“Longbottom.” Draco turned up his nose and sniffed with disdain. “There are no other compartments.”

The boy moved over, clearly still too nervous to say no, and Draco sat huffily. “I assume,” Draco began, knowing he was about to make the already nervous Gryffindor even worse, “That you have not completed the summer homework?”

The brunette jumped and looked at Draco, eyes wide. “Summer homework?”

Draco nodded. “The history of the Genie and why their creation was banned.” That, for some reason, seemed to calm him.

“Oh.”

“You know it?”

“Yes.” Longbottom seemed… shifty, and wouldn’t meet Draco’s eye.

“Well, the Gryffindor does know something!” 

Longbottom smiled weakly, in spite of Draco’s biting tone. “A little.”

“How wonderful!” Draco was still mocking, though internally he sighed in relief. “Perhaps you should prove it,  _ Longbottom _ .”

By the time they reached Hogwarts, Longbottom had (almost) lectured him on the history, though he had still seemed to be hiding something. “Thank you for your help,” Draco sniffed as he stood, confusing the poor Gryffindor even further.

As it was, Draco was sure to avoid looking in Longbottom’s direction the rest of the evening, especially when the boy asked Granger - that filthy mudblood, as his father would have referred to her - about summer homework that definitely  _ did not _ exist. Even so, he was aware of the disgusted look he got from her… and the terribly Gryffindor feeling of disappointment. He told himself it was because he couldn’t see Longbottom’s face when the idiot found out he had been tricked, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case. 

Ah, no matter. Once the beginning of year announcements were complete, Draco made his way to the dungeon that was his home away from home and - as if drawn to the magic of the banned creature in his trunk - laid on his bed so he was facing the end, staring at the steel-bound top sitting there. He knew, logically, that the trunk was enchanted to prevent the leaking of any magic which may be held in it, but it felt… Well, Draco felt that the genie was calling him, begging to be summoned, wished on.

Well… who was he to deny that? Draco stood suddenly, in a rush of something near to delirium, and threw the trunk open. 

He got as far as holding the stopper, about to pull it out, before remembering himself - and the fact that there were others soon to enter the dormitory.

Carefully, as to avoid the temptation of this creature, Draco set the delicate bottle back in his trunk and sealed it away - just in time for Nott, the closest thing he had to a friend here, to  **appear** in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me, I know I didn't put this in last time; this is the second time I've ever posted on this website. Expect there to be formatting errors as a result. All other flaws are wholly my own and I apologise.


End file.
